Slowly, Derek lifted his gaze to mine. In a quiet voice, he said, "Hey, it's notme.It's my dad. He's concerned about you. That's all."
More likely, he was concerned about my money, assuming there was any left. I made a scoffing sound. "Sure he is."
"He is," Derek insisted. "And I am, too. Can't we just put it behind us?"
I stared at him. "Put it behind us? Are you kidding me? When you'restillthreatening him?" My voice rose. "Listen, you jackass. I don't care how many 'jobs' you offer me, or how many times you stop by, you'renotmy friend and you'renotmy family." I could hardly breathe. "So fuck off!"
And this, of course, is when I spotted the white service van rumbling into the driveway.Damn it.It was the plumber, and I was on the verge of losing it.
Or maybe Ihadlost it. I looked back to Derek, who just stood there, staring at me in stunned silence.
He looked almost ready to cry. And awful or not, it made me feel just a little bit better. I summoned up a stiff smile. "And while you're at it, get the hell off my porch."
Finally, looking like a survivor of some natural disaster, he turned and practically staggered down the front steps and toward his car. With slow, jerky movements, he opened his car door, climbed inside, and shut the door behind him. And then, he sat, not driving away, but not getting back out either.
I was still shaking and couldn’t seem to make myself stop, even as the plumber pulled up and parked beside Derek's car.
I felt like crying, but somehow, I kept the tears at bay, even a half-hour later when I received a double dose of bad news.
One had to do with my plumbing, and the other had to do with Joel.
